


Once Caged

by DaedricDoll



Category: Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim
Genre: Canon Divergent, F/M, Skyrim Romance Mod, Slow Build, Slow Burn, Slow Romance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-05-14
Updated: 2019-07-03
Packaged: 2020-03-05 15:09:17
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,813
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18831160
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DaedricDoll/pseuds/DaedricDoll
Summary: The story of a troubled mage with the burden of saving the world and the closed-off ranger at her side, who are almost equals in snark and an unwillingness to be open about their history. Almost.(On hiatus until I finish the Skyrim screenie story for it.)





	1. Midnight Meeting

_The young girl's eyes are wide and curious as she looks out over the mountainous expanse of the Reach, painted in shades of amber as the sun sinks beneath the horizon. The creature at her side wheezes as it lays a hand on her shoulder. She looks up and meets its eyes._

_"Mama, where did you send brother?"_

_It chuckles. "He behaved very badly today, so he's doing chores."_

_"Aw. I was hoping to play with him today."_

_"You needn't concern yourself with him, child.” The creature tightens its grip on the girl. “You’re meant for much greater things."_

-

The deeper parts of Skyrim’s forests, far from the worn stone roads and packed cities, may be the last refuge Bishop has. He can bend the wildlife to his will with either his bow or his dagger, and there’s little noise besides birdsong in the warmer regions. Sometimes, it instills a feeling in him approaching peace.

This is not one of those times.

The ranger trudges through the woodland at a determined pace, shoulders strung tight and fists clenched with a tension that’s burned inside his body for the past few days. A dark hood and mask shield his face, although the only things that surround him are trees and a light fog. Even so, Bishop remains on the alert, with his fingers a hair’s breadth away from the dagger strapped to his hip.

If luck were on his side, any attackers would be the ones who put him in this state, but the tide has never favored him. He knows their lair is at least a few day’s trip away nevertheless. Despite his skill and the anger that drives him forward, Bishop knows that waltzing into a bandit camp on his own is practically suicide.

He’s not sure if he cares.

With that in mind, Riverwood is on the way to his destination, and the idea of a last round of drinks before his potential death tempts him.

_Last._

The thought tightens his throat, and he stops himself in his tracks to lean against the nearest tree with one hand, while he uses the other to wipe the sweat off his brow. The cold steel of his ring brushes against his skin, and a long sigh escapes him. Bishop wishes the frigid air would chill his nerves as much as it does his fingertips.

Every second he wastes here...

A twig snaps close by, and Bishop jerks to attention. His free hand shoots to the hilt of his dagger as his eyes raise to see a figure standing in the clearing ahead of him, faced in the opposite direction with their head raised to the night sky -

\- and surrounded by bodies. At least five of them.

Bishop’s heart thrums against his chest. The stench of blood permeates the air enough to make his stomach lurch. Was he so distracted that he didn’t notice it before? Surely his senses aren’t that dulled by his own thoughts.

He draws his blade with as much care as possible, and stands up off the tree.

The figure is still, even as he approaches. Stealth is something he’s mastered over the years, but the stillness of the scene unnerves him enough that he's tempted to make himself noticed on purpose. With all the unnatural phenomena in Skyrim, it could be any number of things: a witch, a vampire, some kind of apparition, or maybe even a hallucination. A hood and cloak obscure most detail, but their shoulders raise and lower with slow breathe, so...not a stray draugr.

They also don’t appear to be armed.

Bishop stops a short distance away, and as he does so, something crunches underneath his boot. The figure whips around to face him, the movement so sudden that he curses aloud and yanks the dagger from its sheath. He freezes, knife at the ready, as the hood falls away and reveals the face of a young woman. Fresh blood stains her skin and her eyes widen at the sight of him in evident surprise.

Vampire...no. She’s pale enough for it, but her face is too full - still, looks can be deceiving. His gaze travels down and he sees more blood streaked and stained on her clothes, as well as the bodies at her feet. The corpses are dressed in tattered furs, with their weapons and other belongings strewn on the ground.

Bandits.

The world won’t miss them, but...something feels off.

Bishop makes eye contact with the woman again. The shock has left her face, now replaced by a blank expression that unnerves him even further.

“Something the matter?” She asks. Her tone is serene, like there isn’t death around her.

He keeps his blade at the ready as the two of them stare each other down. She doesn’t appear to be armed from what he can see. Possibly a mage. He can handle mages...although a whole group of bandits somehow couldn’t.

“Not sure if you noticed,” Bishop says, “but you’re covered in blood, and surrounded by dead people.”

The woman raises her arms and looks down at herself, then the bodies. Her eyes turn even more distant, as if she forgot they were there.

 “They accosted me." She drops her arms and faces him again. "I hoped that was obvious.”

“And you slaughtered all five of them on your own?”

“If you keep pointing that thing at me, I might make it six.”

Bishop bares his teeth. “That sounds like a threat.”

“Not a threat,” she says as she crosses her arms, “a warning. I’m not a threat to you, as long as you don’t plan on attacking me.”

He wets his lips. Sure, he’s dealt with mages before, but he’s not sure he wants to tangle with one right now that has a fresh body count around her. He hopes the bandits only sucked at their job.

“So it seems we’re at an impasse,” he says.

“I can let you walk away as easily as I can walk away myself.” There’s more conviction in her tone than before. “I’m not afraid of you, I just don't want to fight you.”

Bishop keeps his gaze locked on her as he thinks. Bandits are better off dead, of course. What’s the harm in letting her walk away? What’s she gonna do, kill more bandits?

If she's evil, she may turn her wrath elsewhere...but even if she does, is it really his problem?

“Fine.” Bishop starts to put his dagger back, without looking away from the woman. “None of my business, right?”

Bemusement flashes on her face as she rests her arms back to her sides, but she says nothing more. Bishop stands up straight and turns to walk in the opposite direction.

“In that case, I’ve seen nothing.” He adjusts the mask on his face, in case it slipped at all. “Try not to attack me from behind though, will you? It'll be the last decision you'll ever make."

The woman doesn’t respond, which he takes as a sign that she’s really not interested in any further conversation.

He expects to hear sudden movement as he turns himself around - a part of him wants it with the rage in his heart he could let out in a good fight, but there’s nothing. In his periphery, the woman remains still and silent, for better or for worse.

Still on the alert, he walks back the way he came. Once certain that he’s alone again, he twists right back around and retraces his steps to the clearing - he still needs to go Riverwood, after all.

He comes back, and not a trace of the woman remains.

Or the bodies.

He takes a moment to look up at the sky towards sea of stars, as she did, before he puts his out of his mind and continues on his way.


	2. Deal With A Witch

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An unlikely duo come to an agreement.

When the afternoon comes a day later, Bishop finds his attentions latched onto the bottom of a tankard.

 _Just one,_ he thought earlier, but this is his third. He feels outside of himself, too much for him to muster the energy to move or listen to the voice in the back of his head yearning for a fourth. _Just one, then I’ll be on the road._ Yet here he is, weighed down to the bar stool like a useless lug, while the other denizens of the Sleeping Giant Inn act as if he’s not even there.

He rubs at his forehead with the tip of his fingers to keep them from twitching with urgency. He knows, he knows, he knows he’s wasting time for his own selfish reasons, but all the same – what’s the point anymore?

Even if he did manage save the last friend he has in this damn world from a whole gang of bandits like a superhuman, what’s to say he wouldn’t end up losing him again? Who’s to say that Karnywyr wouldn’t get hurt or seriously ill some other way, if he isn’t already dead? As much as he sometimes deludes himself into believing otherwise, Karnwyr is _just_ a wolf. Fragile. Unintelligent. Short-lived. Come five years or so and his time will be running out. He may not even be able to run around Skyrim with him at that point.

He’s going to end up well and truly alone, whether he likes it or not.

_Dammit._

Bishop tosses his head back and slurps down the last droplets of mead left in his tankard. H slams it back down on the counter and wipes his mouth off with his glove. _One more for the road...?_ He raises his head to look at Orgnar, focused on cleaning another tankard rather than the worthless drunk sitting at his bar.

“Bishop, right?”

The voice, strangely familiar, demands his attention instead. He swings his head around to see someone standing behind him: a young woman, arms crossed and her weight shifted onto one leg. She wears wool clothes with an oversized scarf hiding her chin. Dark hair tumbles over one shoulder, while a smattering of freckles and feather-like tattoos encircle her eyes. _Weird._

Bishop’s eyes narrow. He’s never seen her around Riverwood before, but the way her voice sounds…

She inclines her head and blinks slow. The expression on her face seems hollow.

“Recognize me?”

“You…” he breathes.

Last night comes back to him – the bodies, the smell of blood in the air, and his dagger drawn. _Her._ Bishop thanks the alcohol in his system for keeping him glued to his barstool instead of jumping out of it.

“How did you find me? Did you follow me?”

“No, actually. I happened to be in town, and I knew you by your armor. Honest.”

He doubts that. It’s too convenient – but on the other hand, if she were following him, why would she wait a whole day to confront him? He’s been here for a while, so maybe not, but he’s never had a knack for inserting himself into the mind of strange mages. Especially the creepy ones.

“So…you thought it was a good idea to say hello to the man who was moments away from killing you last night?”

She shrugs. “Alvor pointed me towards you. Said there was ‘this ranger who hangs around’ in town. You just happened to be that ranger.”

“Damn old man should learn to keep his mouth shut,” Bishop scoffs, “besides, what could _you_ possibly need my ‘help’ for? I’m not exactly for hire right now, in case you can’t tell.”

“Nothing…untoward, I think. The Jarl wants me to retrieve something from Bleak Falls Barrow – he’s asked me personally.”

“Sounds important.”

“Thing is…” She starts to fidget with a pendant that hangs out from under her scarf, a clawed bird’s foot clutching a gemstone. “…I’m not familiar with this area of Skyrim…or much of Skyrim at all. I’m from High Rock so…I’d prefer to have someone who knows the area well at my back.”

“Hm.” Bishop looks her up and down once more. She looks harmless now, but last night she gave off a very different air. The mysteriousness still hangs there. He heaves a sigh as his fingers drum against the wood of the bar. He’s not sure why he’s even entertaining her – he’s not for hire right now. Not for any amount of gold or anything.

Unless...

“So what you need is someone to guide you around and make sure you don’t get killed wandering like an idiot into a bandit camp or something, right?”

Maybe bandits aren’t the best example.

She stops her fidgeting and stares at him with the same blank expression she had on earlier “…if that’s how you want to put it.”

He rolls his tongue around his mouth. This should’ve been an obvious idea.

“Tell you what – “

Bishop slides his tankard away from him and stands out of his seat, apparently a little too fast as the woman flinches back away from him. He ignores it as he stretches his arms above his head and groans with the satisfaction of finally moving after hours on end. She steps back away from him with a hand clutching her pendant.

Oddly timid behavior compared to what he saw the previous night.

He drops his arms and stares down at her. His mind feels strangely clear now.

“ – I’m feeling generous right now, so I’ll consider your request, but I need a favor from you before that happens.”

She perks up, but looks at him quizzically. “…depends on the favor.”

“ _Nothing untoward_.” He cracks a weak grin, then drops it. “Thing is…my _actual_ companion was kidnapped recently. I’m on my way to get him back, but what’s stopping me is that I know his captors are a large of bandits holed up in the Rift.”

There’s annoyance on her face for a moment when he mocks her, but then it changes to concern. Her wide eyes stare at him with rapt attention…it softens him ever so slightly. He can’t remember the last time he’s had an interaction like this with anyone. He inhales and wipes the thought from his mind, and others like it.

“Believe me, I am the best around here you’ll find, but their numbers are just enough that me going on my own likely won’t end well. But two people…”

“So…a rescue mission? I can do that.”

“Really?” He blinks rapidly. “That was fast.”

She nods. “Yeah. Easy.”

Her monotonous tone of voice confuses him a little, like she’s hiding something, but he doesn’t have many other options right now. Besides…she’s not bad to look at.

“In that case, it’s settled. I hope you have a name, unless you just want me to call you ‘woman.’”

There’s the hint of a smile on her face. Did she actually find that amusing? “It’s Verelle.”

“Verelle, huh…can’t say I’ve heard that one before.” He strokes his stubble with his beard as he gives her a third once-over. She’s short, slender, and…soft-looking, but appearances aren’t everything, especially in this case.

It’s an unfamiliar feeling, but if this works out, he’s interested to see her in action.

“Can’t say I’ve ever heard ‘Bishop’ either,” Verelle says, as she releases her pendant and folds her hands behind her back instead, “when are we heading out?”

Her eagerness is unexpected. He’s always figured that very few people would ever be willing to help him out of a rough spot, but then again, he’s always been able to help himself. It has Bishop somewhat flustered to be seeking help from a strange woman he doesn’t entirely trust to not be looking to get rid of him as a witness, or something along those lines.

 _Oh well._ If it comes to that, he’ll deal with it. At least he’s been given the motivation to get out of the inn and head to his destination. He clears his throat and brushes his armor off. “I was thinking now, so I hope you’re ready.”

She nods. “All I have is my bag.”

“Great, before we leave, however –“

Bishop erases any emotion from his face and takes a step towards her. She doesn’t back away this time, although her shoulders curl upward and her own expression returns to the same emptiness as before. He lowers his head towards hers to drive his point home further.

“ – like I said before, if you even think about stabbing me in the back,” he says in a low voice, “I _will_ make you regret it.”

She stares back at him. Out of the corner of his eyes, he sees her drop her hands and clench her fists.

“Not planning on it.”

“Good. Let’s go.”

Bishop brushes past her and toward the door to the inn. He catches her hesitate for a moment, before she unclenches her fists and starts to follow him.

This is going to be interesting.


End file.
